


Dwalin doesn't like elves

by justreaderr



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwalin doesn't like them, Elves are bothersome, F/M, Female Elf Character, Interspecies Sex, Rivendell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justreaderr/pseuds/justreaderr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin was pissed, even worse, he was pissed and aroused. He had spent the entire day chasing after the lads, who had decided to behave as un-Durin-like as possible. They had gone elf-watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwalin doesn't like elves

**Author's Note:**

> A little warning beforehand: English is not my native language, as you will undoubtedly soon notice. Please feel free to ignore all those many mistakes

Dwalin was pissed, even worse, he was pissed and aroused. He had spent the entire day chasing after the lads, who had decided to behave as un-Durin-like as possible. They had gone elf-watching. No proper dwarf should ever do that, you hear me, never ever should a dwarf go elf-watching, but those two brats had done it. And he, Dwalin, had to come with them. 

Why? Because Dwalin hates Elves and does not trust them; hates them nearly as much as Orks, Trolls, Wargs, Goblins, well, you get the picture, don’t you? He hates them for being cowards. Hates them for being oath breakers. Hates how they love to talk and never do anything. Hates how they walk – floating without making a single sound – and leave a dwarf to trample after them. Hates how they sing and dance, as if they haven’t got a single care in the world. Hates how they look at him – as if he was some sort of misbehaving child. Hates their holier than thou attitude. 

But what he hates the most is, how they look. Hideous, absolutely hideous. And Dwalin knows this, he had been elf-watching with the lads after all, he had seen them; all of them. The worst was of course their hairlessness. Elves had no beards; every dwarf knows this, because they didn’t have enough honour to be gifted with one. What Dwalin hadn’t known was that safe for their far too soft looking hair and far too delicate brows, they were bare. No dwarf would dare to remove a single garment if this was what lies beneath. They would be ashamed of themselves. Elves don’t have shame. This Dwalin has learned today as well. They are perfectly contending with bathing as they are in rivers, for poor unsuspecting dwarves to walk in on them.

Not only are their bodies bare, their skin is also completely unmarred. Dwalin has seen far too much elvish skin today, and still he hadn’t been able to spot a single scar or tattoo, that spoke of their great deeds in battle. While Dwalin had known that elves were cowards he hadn’t thought that they would glorify their cowardice, by hiding the signs of a time when they had acted somewhat brave.

Dwalin also thought their faces ugly, the lack of beard aside. You cannot tell male and female elf apart by looking in their faces. A dwarf had a proper angular face, a dwarrowdam as well, but with a slight, beautiful roundness to her cheeks. But elves all had softly rounded faces, with fragile cheekbones and jawbones. And their eyes were too big as well. Not even a dwarfling would have such wide eyes. It was unnatural, and Dwalin was sure they had those eyes to pull the best innocent faces to fool dwarves into believing them their crap. But he could see right through them, he would not be fooled. Also their noses; they had to be a joke, right? Their maker pulled a prank on them, by giving them such pathetic wee little things, of this Dwalin was certain. The bigger and stronger the nose the prettier was the face, an ancient dwarfish rule.

This brought on the last point. Big and strong was beautiful, but have you ever taken a closer look to an elf? Well, Dwalin has. Elves were weak. Their grossly elongated limbs were thin, wispy, scrawny and overall fragile; absolutely no mighty, bulking muscles, hardly any muscles at all, if you ask the dwarf. And in this, Dwalin was willing to admit, he had looked rather closely. He was a mighty warrior after all and responsible for Thorin’s safety, so he had to keep a look out for potential dangerous individuals. And he hadn’t been able to spot a single one. How those elves survived the centuries was beyond him. Maybe that was the reason for their cowardice?

It had been a matter of minutes, but then the lads had found one of the most glorified elven warriors of all time; Known even to Dwalin, who had never bothered even the slightest bit with elfish lore. Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin, the elf who slew a balrog, leader of rivendells’ armed forces. And to be honest, that elf looked pathetic; a wee little thing, with shoulders even narrower than Kili’s, even though the lad would scarily reach the elf’s chest. Maybe that balrog died of laughter? Dwalin had seen young dwarflings with stronger arms, than that elf. How that one should even lift a sword, let alone fight with it was beyond the dwarf. The very same could be said about the esteemed Lord of Rivendell himself. That elf should have fought during the time of the last alliance, gone to war for years? Laughable, when he doesn’t possess a single ounce of muscle to back that claim. 

All in all, elves were hideous. And Dwalin hates them. So why, by Mahal, was he aroused; aroused by the memory of those hideous things, walking, talking, laughing and bathing. Maybe he was sick, or some kind of magic lies upon those creatures. No, no right dwarf was influenced by elfish magic. The warrior gritted his teeth together. His fellow dwarves sat happily around their fire - fuelled by some elfish chairs – having fun and singing songs and he? He, Dwalin, son of Fundin, was left in this most unfortunate situation. Entirely pissed and aroused, and because of this even more pissed.

Hastily he picked himself of the ground, and adjusted his garment to cover his problem. When Thorin asked, where he was going to, he only grumbled, that he would turn in early, so he could be ready to keep an eye on the leaf eaters in the morrow. His king nodded and waved him away. Dwalin marched past the others and vanished from their sight.  
Within the elfish houses he turned towards where their guestrooms were located. He would take care of this problem in the solitude of his room and then turn in for the night. How dare those things make him desire them? It was unnatural. Why would a dwarf - a being forged by Mahal himself, the greatest of all the Valar – desire to burry himself in one of those ungainly creatures? Yet, just the thought of having one of them beneath him makes him shudder with pleasure. 

Everything about them was long and thin, so would one of them feel delicious tight around his own thick length? Surely. Maybe his body was on to something. The idea of holding weak, long limbs down, while trusting in one of those unspoiled creatures and finally leaving some marks on its unblemished skin makes him feel nearly lightheaded.  
Where the heck was his room? Shouldn’t it be here somewhere? He could swear the way from the rooms to their fire had been far shorter. Finally the path bowed into a small corridor that looked somewhat familiar. While Dwalin could not remember the ugly stature and the strange picture on the wall, the architecture and the doors where correct, as well as the layout of the rooms. The third door was his. Without much thought he dashed into the room and closed the door.

As he turned around he froze midstride, coming face to face with an elf. 

“What da heck, are ya doin in my room, elf?” Dwalin growled menacing.

The elf in question stared at him unblinking, before tipping its head slightly to the side, looking every bit like a curious bird. “The more appropriated question would be: What are you doing in my room, master dwarf?”

Dwalin blinked confused and looked around. The elf was correct. This was not his room.

The expression on the elf’s face changed from curiosity to concern, “You seem to be lost, young one, shall I show you your way back?”, it says this in that slow way of speaking, a adult would use to communicate with a rather dim-witted child.

The warrior gritted his teeth, he was a dwarf of Durins line, and might be slightly lost, but he would most certainly not be babied by some elf. His glance swapped over the creature, estimating his next course of action, when his rather pressing problem decided to remember him of its existence. The next look he sends the elf was no longer filled with aversion but with appetite.

Whilst the room was dark, safe for the bits of moonlight through the windows, the elf seems to be glowing from within. Giving Dwalin a rather good look of its disposition through that flimsy robe it was wearing. The typical elven fragility rather profoundly pronounced by the lack of those heavy court-robes the elves in Rivendell seems to favour. He wants that elf.

His problem was the fault of elves, so it was only fair that an elf would take care of it. He wants that elf, so he would have it.

Said elf, seems to have missed the looks directed at it entirely or at least dismissed them. It stepped forward and eyed the dwarf worriedly, “Are you all right?” 

“Just fine”, he answered hungrily, “You’re a rather pretty thing, ain’t ya?”

The elf blinked uncertainly. “Pardon me?”

“Take off those robes, and let me see the rest, will ya.” ordered Dwalin eagerly.

The Dwarf observed as large grey eyes widened almost comically, when the realisation of what he was talking about finally hits home. His counterpart took a shaky step back and eyed Dwalin appraisingly up and down for a moment. Then very slowly the elf raised its hands to the girdle of its robe and unlaced it.

A satisfied smirk crossed Dwalin’s lips, as he stepped closer to discover what he found himself there. Toe to toe the elf stood nearly a head taller than him, but that mattered little. Up this close the elf turned out to be a lass indeed, even though at this point Dwalin could have cared less, if it had been a lad instead. Roughly he shoved the robe down, leaving the she-elf in a soft silken nightdress.

Her hands travelled up to the lacings of his overcoat, but before she could start undoing them his hands caught slender wrists and held them fast. “No”, he said clearly, and she pulled her hands back, to observe what he would do.

His hands found the hem of her dress and pulled it up, to seek the soft, smooth curves of her thighs and hips underneath. Briefly Dwalin wondered if his hands, rough from handling weapons his entire life, would leave scratches on the tender flesh he stroked, but then decided he didn’t care.

The she-elf’s breath hitched, as his hands travelled over the flat plane of her belly down towards her hidden centre, but skipping it and wandering back up and her backside. His eyes all the while were searching impatiently for the dresses opening to remove it, since it seems far too tight to simply pull it off. His search turned up without results upon the front, so he unceremoniously grabbed her and turned her roughly around.

She gave a hiss of displeasure at this, but complied nevertheless. Dwalin’s eyes found the lacing on her back and pulled it open immediately. The dress, now loose, slipped nearly all by itself down the elf’s slender figure and left her bare to the dwarf’s greedy hands and eyes.

For several moments the dwarf took his time to study the differences between a dwarven woman and this strange creature he had at his disposal. The pronounced bones he could feel at pelvis and rips were something new and he could not decide if he liked this sort of hardness, no dwarf would ever display unless nearly starved to death, peeking out from under the reminding softness. Something else then caught his attention as the elf started fidgeting impatiently. Elves did possess some muscles, he could feel them moving strongly as the she-elf shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked annoyed over her shoulder.

Dwalin grinded his length into her legs and chuckled amused. “Ain’t ya pointy-ears ought to be patient.”

His answer was a low growl that turned into a high-pitched whine once he moved his hand vigorously between her soft thighs and touched her wet slit roughly. Moving up and down the entire length from the little spot that seems to bring all women pleasure no matter the race to the little hole in which he would burry himself soon enough. His fingers circled it a few times and earned him another breathless little sound as well as a minute shift of her hips. But then as he trusted his fingers in, he could barely supress his own throaty grown, as his heavy cock throbbed in jealousy. He had been right, elves were wonderfully tight. Just to feel the slight shudders of the she-elf he trusted a few times into her soft wet heat, before he pulled his fingers free and wiped them clean on her stomach.

Dwalin hadn’t even noticed how much of her weight he’d been holding, so when he stepped back abruptly to remove his clothing, the she-elf nearly overbalanced, but instead of tumbling to the ground in an ungraceful heap, she regained her footing with far more elegance than was appropriate in a situation like this. That angered the dwarf, especially when the elf turned around and her expression was just as calm and collected as it had been in the very beginning.

With a growl he kicked his boots aside and removed is many layers of covering and then stalked back towards the elf, now only clad in his breaches. The she-elf in turn moved slowly backwards, manoeuvring around the table and chairs without taking her eyes of the dwarf until she reached her sleeping place. 

“Lay down”, ordered Dwalin and the elf obeyed easy enough, “Aye, that’s a good lass”

He stroked his hand up her leg once before he shoved them apart roughly und settled himself in-between. His cock was already straining eagerly against his loincloth as he drank in the sight in front of him. Maybe, just maybe he could admit that elves were not entirely ugly. Spread out on a bed willing to be taken, they lost everything of their towering height, carried mostly in their legs, and seemed compared even to the average dwarf small and petite. Easy prey, ready to be enjoyed by him.

His right hand found her wet centre and he shoved two fingers back into her massaging her tight canal, while his thumb grinded into her pleasure point. His other hand fumbled clumsily with his breaches, but finally managed to free his arching dick. Eagerly he removed his hands from the she-elf and rubbed some of her wetness onto himself and massaged his cock a bit to remove the most pressing need. 

But when the elf started reaching out to touch him as well, he reacted almost instinctual. One hand locked firmly around the inquiring wrist, the other hand caught the opposite one and forced both together back onto the mattress, as he settled himself on top of the she-elf.

His now free hand moved back to his cock and rubbed it a few times through the velvet wetness before guiding it to her entrance and finally thrusting into the she-elf.

Dwalin groaned loudly, while the elf gasped in shock, as he buried himself as deep as he would go into that soft body. Marvellous. He had been on the road far too long it seems, he could scarcely remember the last time he has had someone else’s flesh to fuck, let alone a hole that gripped him so nice and tight as this elfish one. Maybe those pointy-eared bastards had their use after all. 

The Dwarf kept himself as still as possible while he checked the elf’s reaction. It wouldn’t do to harm or hurt her too much and cause her to run crying to her Lord, who in turn would kick the dwarves out before Thorin got his map read. His king’s reaction would most likely be dreadful once he heard the reason; to get kicked out for antagonizing elves was fine and dandy, but for fucking them not so much.

The she-elf had her eyes pinched close, but as he watched she took a deep breath and relaxed herself. When her eyes opened again, her ever-present calm was back in place and she signified him to continue. 

Dwalin moved slightly at first, still mindful of the elf beneath him, but when there were no further signs of distress he started trusting in earnest; a hand gripping her hip hard and holding it down to the bed while pumping hard into her.

After making sure the elf would stay as she was supposed to, he removed his other hand and moved it between her legs to help her along, as his release approached fast. And finally, when the body beneath him contracted, the dwarf let go as well and spilled into the she-elf.

He stayed a moment contended in her, but as he softened and started to slip, he pulled out and dropped next to the elf trying to catch his breath. The elf recovered with a few short gasps for air and rolled of the bed and moved on slightly shaking legs to her discarded robe to cover her nakedness. With her covering back in place she turned to the door and vanished soundlessly into the night.

The dwarf knew he should leave as well and try to find his own chambers. But a pleasant tiredness started to set into his limbs and so he decided it would not harm anybody if he closed his eyes for a few minutes; just until the elf returned from wherever she had gone to, - most likely somewhere to clean up. Then he would make sure she was undamaged, as a thoughtful bedmate should, even when the other was an elf, and could inquire in which direction his rooms were. 

That was a great plan. He yawned. Just a few minutes rest.

When he reopened his eyes it was to the sensation of someone shaking his shoulder. The mind filled with images of orcs poking him he sat up fast and grabbed for his trusty axes to attack whatever dared to come close to him. But his weapons weren’t there. Neither were there any orcs, instead the she-elf stood next to him and eyed him warily.

“Good morning”, she greeted eventually.

Dwalin looked around. He was still in the wrong room, so he must have fallen asleep yesterday and let his guard down. The elf was dressed in leggings and tunic, a sword at her hip, quiver on her back and a bow in her hand. The dwarf cursed, how was it possible that he missed weapons in the room. Had the elf decided to kill him yesterevening he wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

“Do not worry yourself, it is still early”, said the elf, obviously mistaken his anger for displeasure at falling asleep in the wrong room.

Hastily Dwalin bolted out of bed and tried to pull his clothes back on as fast as possible, nearly tripping over his own feet; much to the amusement of the now grinning she-elf.

“Stop grinning”, he growled in displeasure.

“Don’t mind me” she said amused, “My duty starts soon, but I will lead you back to your companions beforehand. We don’t want you to get lost again, do we?”

The elf wasn’t even bothered by the angry glare the dwarf levelled at her and continued grinning happily at his misfortune. 

Oh, how Dwalin hates elves.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was my first attempt at writing something like this. Just be honest and tell me what you think


End file.
